


Of Knights and Queens

by RunWonderlandRun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Guardians of the Nemeton, Speculation for 3B, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:57:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunWonderlandRun/pseuds/RunWonderlandRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, Allison,” Kate’s face was dirty. Her neck was slashed open and bloody. Isaac was lying at her feet, a gash across his throat. His lips were coated in black blood. He reached for Allison. Kate raised her knife, “Let’s do him together.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Knights and Queens

                 _Come on, Allison. Let’s do him together_

                With a gasp, Allison woke up. She looked around her room. Her books were strewn all over her bed. She put a hand over her heart and slumped. Something cold touched her back. Allison reached under herself and pulled out one of her knives. Closing her eyes, she let the knife drop to the ground and tried to calm down.  Her left arm started to itch. She scratched it. The itch turned to pain.

                “Oh,” Allison winced. Her arm started to burn, “ah,” she hissed and leaned against the headboard. Carefully, Allison ran a hand over her burning skin; it felt cold. Suddenly, white hot pain shot down her arm. Allison let out a cry and dropped on the floor, writhing in agony.

                “Allison?!” her father barged into her room, his gun drawn, “what’s wrong?”

                “My arm,” she panted, “hurts.”

                “Let me see,” her father touched her.

                                                                                                -----

_“Come on, Allison,” Kate’s face was dirty. Her neck was slashed open and bloody. Isaac was lying at her feet, a gash across his throat. His lips were coated in black blood. He reached for Allison. Kate raised her knife, “Let’s do him together.”_

_Allison blinked._

                                                                                                ------

                _Isaac fell to the ground. She looked at her hands; they were bloody. Beside Isaac, were Boyd and Erica. Arrows stuck out of both their chest. Their eyes glowed yellow._

_Allison blinked._

                                                                                                ------

_Her mother was standing in the middle of the room. She was smiling. Her eyes glowed blue. Scott was lying at her feet, surrounded by wolfs bane. He was dead._

_Allison blinked._

                                                                                                -----

_Her grandfather was sitting on chair. Fire surrounded him. Black blood spilled down his cheeks and chin._

_Allison blinked.._

                                                                                                -----

                “Allison! Allison!”

                Gasping, Allison opened her eyes. Her father was looking down at her, scared. She felt cold.

                “Come here,” her father picked her off the floor and moved her to the bed. Allison felt something wet on her arm. She looked at it. Blood dripped down to her hand.

                “Did I cut myself?” she asked her dad. He shook his head.

                “No, you—God, you just fainted and then your arm, your arm started to bleed.”

                Allison watched her blood drip onto the sheets. She reached across her bed and grabbed a t-shirt to wipe the blood away. She hissed. Her skin felt tender and warm.

                Her father’s eyes widened, “Allison,” he sounded scared, “Allison what did you do?”

                She stared at her arm. Two black bands—one thicker than the other—wrapped around her arm. In the middle, was a silver arrow.

                “Allison,” her father ran his hand over the tattoo, careful not to touch it, “What did you do?”

                _There will be a darkness around your heart—a scar_

Deaton’s word’s ringed inside her head. Hesitantly, Allison touched the tattoo. It pulsed beneath her hand, like a heartbeat. She looked at her father.

                “What did you do?” he took her head between his hands.

                Allison thought about Kate. She thought about her mother. She thought about Gerard.

                “Dad,” she touched his hands and looked him in the eyes. The tattoo on her arm buzzed. “I did what I had to do.”

                                                                                                -------

                Picking at his food, Stiles looked up at his dad. The last few days had been tense. His father sat Stiles down and demanded his son to tell him everything. Since then, his father’s been oddly quiet. At times, he’d look at Stiles with a mixture of pride and terror.

                “You got any plans for today?”

                “Going over to Scott’s,” Stiles drank some soda, “probably play some video games or something.”

                His left arm started to itch. Stiles ignored it.

                “Just video games?” his father asked, “nothing else?”

                He grinned, “Nope—nothing else. Just video games.”

                “Good,” his father smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

                His arm started to burn. Stiles winced.

                “What’s wrong,” his father got up.

                “I don’t know,” Stiles grunted and took off his plaid shirt. The burning intensified, robbing Stiles of his breath.

                “Stiles!” his dad ran to him, “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

                He tried to take a breath. Stiles looked at his arm. Drops of blood sprouted from his skin.

                “Oh,” Stiles whispered, “that’s not good.”

                “What,” his father grabbed his hand.

                Stiles vision went white.

                                                                                                ------

_His mother was lying on Stiles bed. Her eyes were closed. She looked like a skeleton wrapped in paper skin. Stiles touched her hand. He watched as his mother dissolved into dust._

_Stiles breathed in._

                                                                                                -----

_Heather was lying down on her bed. She was dressed in white. Blood dripped down the sheets. Tara lied on the floor; her police uniform was a dark red._

_Stiles breathed out._

                                                                                                -----

_His dad was clutching his chest. Amber liquid trickled down his mouth. Blood seeped between his fingers. Red and blue dots flashed around his father. Gunshots and howls rand in the distance._

_Stiles breathed in._

_\------_

“Breathe, Stiles! Breathe!”

                Choking, Stiles looked up at his father. He was on the floor.

                “God, Stiles,” his dad grabbed his shirt and patted his left arm. Stiles whined. It hurt, “I thought you were having a seizure! I was just about to call an ambul—“

                His dad went quiet.

                “What?” Stiles asked, “what—what’s wrong?”

                “Your arm,” his dad whispered, “Stiles your arm.”

                Stiles glanced at his arm.

                “Oh,” he felt faint, “oh.”

                Underneath the blood, was a tattoo—Scott’s tattoo. Trembling, Stiles touched the black bands. He noticed something different.

                “Whoa.”

                Between the black bands, was a band of blue seven pointed stars. Stiles laughed. He remembered what Deaton had told him along with Allison and Scott.

                _You’ll become its guardians_

“It’s done,” Stiles murmured, “it’s real—it’s happening.”

                “You’re not making any sense, kid,” his dad grabbed his neck and pulled him closer. His eyes sought out Stiles, “what are you talking about?”

                Stiles touched the tattoo. It throbbed beneath his touch, “We’re bound to the Nemeton.”

                “The Neme—the tree?” his father asked, horrified. Stiles nodded.

                “Stiles,” his dad pulled him in close. His hand rubbed Stiles head, “what did you do?”

                He closed his eyes and returned his father’s hug. Stiles thought about his mother. He thought about Heather. He thought about Tara. Stiles thought about his father.

                “I did it for you.”

                                                                                                -----

                Scott put his legs up on the coffee table and waited for the movie to start. His mother plopped down next to him and handed him a bowl of popcorn.

                “What are we watching tonight?”

                “An old werewolf movie from Sweden—it’s pretty creepy. It also has werepigs.”

                His mother laughed, “Werepigs?”

                Scott nodded. His tattoo started to itch. He took off his jacket.

                “You know, I wanted a tattoo when I was your age,” Melissa grabbed some popcorn, “but your abuelita threaten to tear my skin if I got one.”

                “Really?” the itching intensified.

                “Oh yea. She would have too.”

                His skin started to burn. Scott slapped a hand over his tattoo and doubled over.

                “Scott?”

                “I’m ok,” Scott panted, “I’m o—“ grunting, he fell off the couch, the popcorn spilling onto the floor. His mother dropped down on her knees next to him.

                “Where does it hurt?” she asked, “Scott, where does it hurt?” she pushed his hair back. Scott tried to move.

                                                                                                -----

_His mother was lying on the floor next to Sheriff Stilinski. Their faces were white, and their lips were blue. Ropes were tied around their necks._

_Scott tried to move._

                                                                                                -----

_There were people running all around him. There was fire. There were bullets whizzing past. There were arrows.  There were creatures Scott didn’t know existed, tearing through the town, killing innocent people._

_Scott tried to move._

                                                                                                ------

                _Gerard stood in front of them. Allison was kneeling by her grandfather’s side. A sword stuck out of her stomach._

_Scott tried to move_

_\------_

_Stiles laid at his feet, his throat slashed ear to ear. He looked down at his hands. His claws were bloody._

_Scott couldn’t move._

                                                                                                ------                                                                                     

                “Scott!”

                Panting, Scott opened his eyes. His mother was looking down at him, tears in her eyes.

                “Oh thank God,” she pulled him into a hug. His arm throbbed for a second.

                “Mom,” he pulled away, “I’m ok, I’m ok.”

                His mother scoffed, “You just fainted on me—I don’t think you’re ok. And your arm…”

                Confused, Scott looked at his tattoo. His eyes widened. Between the two black bands, was a seven pointed star.

                “Stiles,” Scott mumbled. Two crossed silver arrows were inside the star, “Allison”. The tattoo pulsed in time with his heart.

                _…heart of an immense darkness…_

They’ve been marked; Scott, Stiles and Allison had been marked.

                “Scott?”

                The feeling that’s been wrapped around his heart since they recued their parents vibrated. He could feel the darkness twining around his heart, spreading throughout his body; but he could also feel his friends. Scott looked at his mom.  She touched the tattoo.

                “It happened,” Scott told his mother, “we’ve been marked.”

                “Marked?” his mother took his hands in hers, “Scott what did you?” she frowned, “what did you and Stiles—“

                “And Allison,” Scott bit his lip, “Stiles and Allison.”

                His mother exhaled, “What did you guys do?”

                Scott looked at his tattoo.  Something was coming. Something was being drawn to the nemeton; something  dangerous. He looked at his mother. He smiled.

                “We did it to save you guys.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, kind of speculating that they'll have to fight against the darkness inside of them? No idea.


End file.
